Barron's Blog

Thursday, 23 October 2014

The theme for the following sequence of poems is taken from an
observation on short stories which states that characters are 'from a submerged population
group desperately trying to return, to get back, somehow, somewhere.'

The idea is to show the gradual decline of a
person’s unfortunate state of mind as they go through three deteriorating stages.The
first poem shows a factual journey of a few minutes, the second poem an escape into complete fantasy and finally the desperation of
someone suffering a complete and catastrophic emotional breakdown.

Waiting for a Lift

A descriptive title chosen for its’ everyday usage and while
still being ambiguous I created a mechanical, sing song sound using the rhythm of the phrases to contrast with the panic
and emotion of the voice. The idea is to put human qualities on a piece of mechanical
equipment and to show the voice in the poem gradually descending into fear, desperation and panic.

A Letter to a Friend (John Wayne's coming for tea)

A descriptive title but not the contents one would usually
find in a letter, the idea is that the letter writer has retreated into television weather reports and writes a letter
based on this and a rose catalogue. If you happen to read a rose catalogue there are a wealth of
fascinating names and descriptions to be found within.

The tone of the poem is happy, almost euphoric and the form of a
letter is designed to make this very personal while at the same time conjuring up colourful pictures and images. I
deliberately left out punctuation such as question marks to show the decline
of the writer. The initial at the bottom instead of a signature is to leave the writers’
identity anonymous and for the reader to imagine or guess at the author’s personality and identity. True to say and a rather uncomfortable thought is that it could be anyone.

Quicksilver

A title chosen from the many different definitions of
Mercury which are not usually associated with the human condition. Mercury the planet is hinted at '36 000
miles to the sun', the sense of foreboding associated with the ancient world messenger 'a conductor of souls to the underworld' and the unpredictable qualities of the metallic element are
analogous to the subject’s condition.

The reference to mercury, its fluidity and characteristics of equilibrium and balance so missing from the subject was also very important. I tried to contrast the deeper
meanings of the element with the mundane every day weather forecast and television themes.

The poem is deliberately dis-jointed and definitions hinted at, provoking the reader into taking different interpretations of the text.

Waiting for a Lift

A digit extends and stabs the up call

Slowly there’s life in a tired accounts hall

Worn switches send out an order to state

Impatient, 'no time, must hurry, can’t wait'

Shot nerves of steel wind tight round a wheel

'Oh no! late again, this just isn’t real'

Lumbering and shaking a journey to make

'Please! Stop the clock, how long will it take?'

Down the lift goes past clerks grey and bleak

'Finished, no job, it’s the fourth time this week'

'Doors Open' now, a tin voice expounds

Jump in, press the fourth – no movement, no sound.

A shutdown, a breakdown, it won’t close the door

Too tired, can’t go on, can’t cope any more.

A letter to a friend (John Wayne’s coming for tea)

Dear Evelyn,

Warm wishes,

Ingrid Bergman called today to ask me to her Silver Wedding.

It’s at the Salmon Leap next to the Bridge of Sighs with music by Handel and Dusty

Springfield Singing in the Rain.

I’m going with Emily Gray and Lady Penelope should be a grand affair.

Anyway must dash, John is coming round for tea, you remember John a quiet man

Sunday, 29 June 2014

The Man From God Knows Where

Florence M. Wilson

Into our townlan, on a night of snow,Rode a man from God-knows-where;None of us bade him stay or go,Nor deemed him friend, nor damned him foe.But we stabled his big roan mare:For in our townlan we're decent folk,An if he didn't speak, why none of us spoke,An we sat till the fire burned low.

We're a civil sort in our wee place,So we made the circle wideRound Andy Lemon's cheerful blaze,An wished the man his length o days;An a good end to his ride,He smiled in under his slouchy hatSays he: "There's a bit of a joke in that,For we ride different ways."

The whiles we smoked we watched himFrom his seat fornent the glow,I nudged Joe Moore, "You wouldn't dareTo ask him who he's for meetin there,An how far has he got to go?"But Joe wouldn't dare, nor Wullie Boy Scott,An he took no drink - neither cold nor hotThis man from God-knows-where.

It was closin time, an late forbye,When us ones braved the airI ne'er saw worse, may I live or die,Than the sleet that night, an I says, says I,"Ye'll find he's for stoppin there."But at screich o day, through the gable paneI watched him spur in the peltin rain,An I juked from his rovin eye.

Two winters more, then the Trouble Year,When the best that a man could feelWas the pike he kept in hidlin's near,Till the blood o hate an the blood o fearWould be redder nor rust on the steel.Us ones quit from mindin the farmsLet them take what we gave wi the weight o our arms,From Saintfield to Kilkeel.

In the time o the hurry, tho we had no leadWe all of us fought with the restAn if e'er a one shook like a tremblin reedNone of us gave neither hint nor heed,Nor even showed we'd guessed.We men of the North had a word to say,An we said it then, in our own dour way,An we spoke as we thought was best.

All Ulster over, the weemen criedFor the standin crops on the lanMony's the sweetheart an mony's the brideWould liefer hae gone till where he died.An hae murned her lone by her man,But us ones weathered the thick of it,An we used to dander along an sitIn Andy's side by side.

What with discourse goin to an fro,The night would be wearin thin,Yet never so late when we rose to goBut someone would say: "D'ye mind thon snow,An the man came wanderin in?"An we'd be fallin to talk again,If by chance he was one o themThe man who went like the win

Well, 'twas gettin on past the heat o the yearWhen I rode to Newtown fair;I sold as I could - the dealers were nearOnly three pounds eight for the Innis steer,An nothin at all for the mare -But I met McKee in the throng o the streetSays he, "The grass has grown under our feetSince they hanged young Warwick here"

An he told me that Boney had promised helpTo a man in Dublin townSays he, "If ye've laid the pike on the shelf,Ye'd best go home hot-foot by yerself,An once more take it down."So by Comber road I trotted the grayAn never cut corn until KillyleaghStood plain on the risin groun

For a wheen o days we sat waitin the wordTo rise an go at it like men,But no French ships sailed into Cloughey Bay,An we heard the black news on a harvest dayThat the cause was lost again;An Joey an me, an Wullie Boy Scott,We agreed to ourselves we'd as lief as notHae been found in the thick o the slain

By Downpatrick Gaol I was bound to fareOn a day I'll remember, faithFor when I came to the prison squareThe people were waitin in hundreds there,An you wouldn't hear stir nor breathFor the sodgers were standin, grim an tall,Round a scaffold built fornent the wall,An a man stepped out for death

I was brave an near to the edge o the throng,Yet I knowed the face again,An I knowed the set, an I knowed the walkAn the sound of his strange up-country talk,For he spoke out right an plainThen he bowed his head to the swingin ropeWhile I said, "Please God" to his dyin hopeAn "Amen" to his dyin prayer.That the wrong would cease an the right prevail -For the man that they hanged at Downpatrick GaolWas the man from God-knows-where

A remarkable story, well worth reading, both powerful and poignant. It is cleverly patterned with some very deft craft work and a surprise denouement. Barron can write!

From the Author

Books and films about death row are usually centred around the character who faces execution. I wanted to look at the peripheral characters, the chaplain, the people who physically carry out the task and the people that report it.

On another level I wanted to reflect society's polarised opinion, to illustrate the grotesque carnival atmosphere somewhat akin to the public executions of the middle ages and contrast this with the beliefs of those opposed to capital punishment.

And finally the character who faces the ultimate punishment, I wanted to juxtapose his mortality with the indifference and banality of society, the culture of bubblegum pop

Editorial Reviews

From the Author

The cycle of life death and rebirth can be found everywhere and is the theme that runs through this short story. I think there is an endearing yet slightly unsettling aspect of country music which looks forward to, almost can't wait for 'that glorious day when we will meet way up yonder,' hence Johnny's love of Hank Williams.

Influences came from the Berkely University podcast on the Ancient Mediterranean World. Homicide A Year On The Killing Streets by David Simon described a city fighting to survive. And of course Hank Williams.

To continue the theme I compared an ancient civilisation with the decay and regeneration of a decaying, colonial city located on America's 'rust belt'.

I have to be completely honest and admit I do not usually read a lot of short stories. So it is worth remembering when reading this review that I do not have a lot to compare to this story. What I can say is I enjoyed this story.
This book was a lovely read. I read it from start to finish in one go because it piqued my interest. The story was easy going and fun in parts.
I liked the fact that even though it was such a short story there was room for three different characters, you learned about their backgrounds and they all came together at the end of the book. The reason I think I liked it so much was because it made me think afterwards about how one person had so much responsibility and one foolish mistake could have ruined an entire community. I liked the characters and would like to learn more about their future so hopefully this book is just an introduction the lovely village of Carraigmore and the author will write a book where we learn about the future of the village and the characters. I am particularly interested in finding out what happens in Eddie's future.

I also liked Peggy O'Connor and would like to hear more about her as she added humour to the book and she was a character everyone would have met someone like her in their lifetime.

I enjoyed the stories that went back to the Grandfathers of the men and how they linked in to the present day story.
There was a nice twist at the end. A short story with lots packed in to it.I would recommend this book if you would like a nice light read.
I have been pondering whether to rate this 3 or 4 stars, I decided to go with 4 stars because it is a good read not just an ok read
So 4 stars from me and I hope I get to meet the people of Carraigmore again soon.

I do not usually read short stories but the cover and title caught my attention. Glad I did download this as a freebie, I really enjoyed it.
For me, it is a reminder and illustration of how our actions can effect others. In this story, Eddie's need of security for a loan could have changed the lives of a whole community on the other side of the world.
Henry's long held grudge could have had the same effect.
Tara's involvement - decide for yourself.

Thursday, 7 March 2013

Short Listed for The Multi Story Award 2012 - Short Story 2600 Words.'A well structured story delivered with aplomb and subtle humour. The reader senses a twist in the tail is coming but it’s not at all what one is expecting.'The war has ended and the process of rebuilding begins.George Jenkins, a mild mannered man attends an interview at the renowned accountants and actuaries Mackenzie, Smyth and Dennis. Unfortunately for George things don't go as well as planned and the interview comes to a catastrophic end.You see for some time George has been leading a very secret life.And now it seems his skeletons are about to come bursting out of the closet.

A remarkable story, well worth reading, both powerful and poignant. It is cleverly patterned with some very deft craft work and a surprise denouement. Barron can write!

From the Author

Books and films about death row are usually centred around the character who faces execution. I wanted to look at the peripheral characters, the chaplain, the people who physically carry out the task and the people that report it.

On another level I wanted to reflect society's polarised opinion, to illustrate the grotesque carnival atmosphere somewhat akin to the public executions of the middle ages and contrast this with the beliefs of those opposed to capital punishment.

And finally the character who faces the ultimate punishment, I wanted to juxtapose his mortality with the indifference and banality of society, the culture of bubblegum pop.